


Brad Marchand Presents: Misadventures in Matchmaking

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autumn, Bad Matchmaking, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Private School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: The Good:While skinny-dipping after completing his school-mandated community service, Brad meets an incredibly good-looking guy in the woods (and his behemoth best friend) and instantly falls for him.The Bad:Said incredibly good-looking guy is actually interested in Brad's best friend.The Plan:Brad's a bro, so he's going to do whatever it takes to make sure his friend gets together with this incredibly good-looking guy, no matter how much it hurts.Or, the one where Brad thinks Patrice is in love with Charlie, so he's determined to bring them together, even if doing that makes him feel like he's dying inside.





	Brad Marchand Presents: Misadventures in Matchmaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowing_Inside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowing_Inside/gifts).

> Written for @CowboyBergy. Full disclosure: I've never written a High School AU before, so I'm sorry if this attempt seems a little bit shaky. I tried to give the scenario my own little twist to add some flair and hopefully make up for any experience. 
> 
> I was really uncertain of if I should set this fic in Halifax or Boston, and as a compromise, I decided to choose neither and go with the small town of Blackstone, Massachusetts so I could have get the small town setting and have various teenage characters complain about living in a boring town. If you are a Blackstone resident, please note that I only have the characters doing this just so they have something to complain about. I'm sure your hometown is beautiful.

A mosquito buzzed loudly right in Brad’s ear, hovering just at the side of his head. With a scowl, he automatically gave it a sharp slap to kill it instantly, and then let out a curse at the sharp sting at the tip of his ear thanks to the impact. Then, mopping at the beads of sweat dotting his forehead, he resumed chopping at the barberry bush with a renewed vociferousness, listening to the scissoring of the hedge trimmer blades with a savage sort of satisfaction but just slumping in relief as the last of the overgrowth fell away.

“I’m done here, thank the goddamn Lord,” he called to his best friend, Charlie, as he climbed down from his ladder. He could feel a twinge in his legs as he did, his muscles stiff from needing to hold his balance for an extended time—God, he was going to be sore at lacrosse practice tomorrow. And he knew he probably looked like an absolute mess right now; his dark hair poofed up weirdly in the humidity, and no doubt he was covered in leaves from him work.

Charlie glanced up at him from where he was trimming the holly bushes. His round cheeks were flushed from the heat, and his golden blond hair was plastered to his head with perspiration, but his smooth face wore his typical good-natured grin. “I’m almost finished, too, just a minute—” he gave the shrub a few more snips and then stepped back to survey his work. “Yeah, this one’s finished! What next?”

As part of their community service hours that all students at Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Academy were required to complete, they were trimming the hedges at the home of old Mrs. Spunkelcrief, the crotchety elderly mother-in-law of their school’s principal, Mr. Bettman. In Brad’s opinion, this particular task wasn’t actually community service, but in fact a case of Mr. Bettman foisting his familial responsibilities off on unpaid teenagers and essentially using his students as slave labor so he could get out of chores. But as Charlie had pointed out, the two of them had to earn their fifty hours either way, and the sooner they had all their timesheets stamped and filed, the less likely it was that Mr. Bettman could have them trudging out here to shovel snow in the wintertime. So they’d set to work underneath the unseasonably harsh September sun and just gritted their teeth as their clothes became soaked with sweat and clung to their bodies thanks to the oppressive humidity. 

At least Mrs. Spunkelcrief wasn’t there to criticize. When they’d first arrived in Brad’s aged Pontiac, she’d stood at the door to rage at them for trespassing. Then once they’d explained their reason for being there, instead of expressing a single ounce of gratitude, she’d merely sniffed that teenagers these days were incredibly spoiled for owning cars, which no one of _ her _ generation had possessed when they were that young. 

While thoroughly tempted, self-preservation had prevented Brad from informing her that it was only because of his car that they were able to drive all the way out to her house and complete yard work for her free of charge, and he’d held his tongue even though he thought it was a crime to pass up such a good rebuttal. He’d settled for breathing a side of relief when Mr. Bettman himself had whisked her off to bingo and then dinner out at TGI Friday’s, either of which was probably punishment enough to have to suffer through.

Now, Brad glanced around the yard, searching for their next shrub to tackle, but found none. “Huh. I think we might be completely finished. We hit the boxwood, barberry, juniper, and hydrangeas—”

“Don’t forget the firethorn.” Charlie grimaced, rubbing the red scratches the thorns had left him with.

“—and that old hag didn’t want us anywhere near her roses, so I don’t think there’s anything left,” Brad concluded.

“Let’s check around the back, just in case,” Charlie urged him. Distress flashed across his face, and he nibbled at his lip nervously. “I don’t want that old lady yelling at us again. She’s pretty nasty.”

“Right?” Brad agreed. “And these old people claim it’s the youth of today who don’t treat people decent.”

They wound around from the side yard and into the backyard, which opened up onto a brief meadow and then a thickly wooded area. They found no more hedges to trim, but Brad immediately noticed the small wooden footbridge that arced over a wide, shallow stream right away, tracking its widening course into the forest with interest.

He nudged Charlie. “Bet you anything that becomes deep enough to swim in once it reaches the woods. Wanna check and see if it does?” 

Charlie frowned at him. “Even if it did, you don’t have swim trunks here. Neither of us do.” 

Brad grinned devilishly at him. “Who needs swim trunks?” he asked, and as Charlie let out a scandalized gasp, he was already racing off towards the woods.

The forest was maybe a hundred yards away, and it was with great relief that Brad ducked out of the sun’s glare and escaped into the protection of the clusters of the leafy trees. His eyes took several seconds to adjust to the sudden shade of the dense foliage, but the instant he was able to see fully again, he began following the stream further into the woods. And only a little ways inward, though safely tucked away from prying eyes, he found a section where the stream widened and deepened significantly into almost a basin of sorts. Since Brad could see that the water’s flow remained steady and calm, only picking up and beginning to rush over the rocks much further down, he didn’t see any problem with going for a swim.

By the time Charlie caught up with Brad, he was already shedding his clothes and tossing them onto the bank; the material of both his shirt was so damp he didn’t particularly care where it landed, and he only took care with his jeans to ensure his car keys were safely stowed away in a pocket. But ever the organizing force to Brad’s chaos, Charlie gathered up his clothes, spreading them out neatly on a nearby fallen log so they could dry out a little bit. However, he did not move to touch the pair of boxers Brad tossed his way, only looking sending him a look of mixed skepticism and resignation. “You’re really doing this?” 

For his answer, Brad slid off the steep river bank and submerged himself into the cool water. He let out a groan of satisfaction at the invigorating sensation of the water’s chill seeping across his overheated skin. “You should, too. This is a helluva lot better than having your sweaty jeans chafing against your legs. But if you don’t believe me . . .”

Charlie hesitated for a moment, clearly indecisive. Brad would have bet anything that it was shyness and self-consciousness about being entirely exposed that was keeping Charlie out the water. His friend was actually very fit from his running with the cross country team, but his more broad physique was built much differently than a typical runner’s, and Charlie always seemed to be very aware of it.

But discomfort from the heat must have won out over discomfort with his body, or maybe Charlie just was overly empathetic and didn’t want Brad to feel awkward about being the only one who was naked, because he sighed and began stripping down as well, offering only a shrug and a “What the hell?” before plunging in to join Brad.

“That’s the spirit,” Brad said approvingly, pleased as always whenever he managed to corrupt Charlie a little bit. This past summer their usual roles had been reversed, and it had mostly been Charlie coaxing Brad into having fun; Brad was glad for them to switch back and have things be returning to normal.

The water’s current wasn’t very strong, but when Brad and Charlie simply lay still to float on their backs, it carried them a moderate ways down the stream. Content to soak in the cool water and let it wash away the labor of the entire morning and a good portion of the afternoon, Brad was too relaxed to notice how far they’d drifted. But Charlie, who had been frequently corkscrewing over to duck his entire head, thick flow and all, into the water, noticed after only a little while.

“Hey, Brad? Do you know if there are any trails back here? Because, um—” Charlie pointed, a sliver of nervousness entering his voice. “That looks like a bridge right there.”

The bliss of serenity faded away as Brad turned over with a frown, squinting ahead. Sure enough, there was a bridge maybe ten feet away, its dark wood almost blending in with the shade of the surrounding trees.

“Don’t worry,” Brad reassured Charlie. “It’s not big enough for cars, just hikers and bikers, and we’re a good distance from town. Plus, it’s a million degrees out here and the mosquitoes are killer. No one’s gonna be running around the woods on a day like today.”

No sooner had he spoken the words than did the sounds of fast-paced footsteps reach their ears, accompanied by loud voices calling to each other. 

_ Me and my big mouth, _ Brad thought to himself, chagrined. _ Please, please don’t let it be the cops. _ If it was, Brad would take the public indecency charge himself, since he was the instigator, and plead with them to show clemency to Charlie.

Speaking of Charlie, he wore a panicked expression on his face, which morphed into genuine horror as two figures, both jogging, rounded the corner from the woods and crossed out of the treeline and onto the bridge. At first Brad thought the two people might miss them completely, too caught up in their run and their conversation with each other to notice them at all. But then, right in the middle of the bridge, one of them turned to glance at the stream and did a full-on double-take as he spotted the two of them, freezing dead in his tracks. His companion noticed and halted, too, looking momentarily confused before his gaze also landed on Brad and Charlie, and then he stared openly as well.

Brad waved awkwardly at the two of them from where he was treading water. “Hi.”

“Hi,” said the jogger who had glimpsed them first. He looked to be around their age, maybe a year older, and while the sheer uncomfortableness of the situation didn’t do much for Brad’s powers of observation, he quickly realized—because who could miss it?—that this guy was easily the best-looking human being he’d ever seen. Tall, dark, and handsome, with just a hint of stubble on his sculpted chin and friendly dark eyes, he was the kind of beautiful that could summon Shakespeare’s ghost without even needing a seance do it and have him start composing sonnets then and there about this guy’s sheer loveliness. And his smile alone was so warm and so bright that it could have powered the entire state of Alaska through all of their months of endless night in the wintertime. 

Wait, he was _ smiling. _ Smiling at _ Brad. _

“Hi,” said the other jogger, and it took Brad a moment to notice, too occupied with goggling at the dark-haired boy, that this guy was a literal freakin’ giant. Like, well over six feet, probably over six and a half feet. He spoke with an accent, something maybe Eastern European, that sounded to Brad’s untrained ear like something similar to but not quite Russian.

Charlie seemed too mortified to speak, his round cheeks flushing bright red, the color far deeper than it had been at any time during their work in the hot sun.

But the dark-haired boy and his friend seemed more intrigued than anything else, and certainly not angry or upset with them.

“Are you enjoying your swim?” the dark-haired boy asked politely, like he was the manager of a hotel speaking to a pair of guests who were visiting the pool.

“It’s fantastic,” Brad said, a smirk sliding across his face as an idea sprang into his mind. Why not invite them in? It never hurt to be sociable, after all. “You two wanna join us?”

Charlie let out a choking noise at that, bringing both of the joggers to look at him in concern. He didn’t look back at them, only stared fixedly down into the water, the blush on his face deepening still.

The dark-haired boy chuckled at the invitation, seeming honestly tempted, and his laughter was such a breaktaking sound that it probably could have stolen the wind right from a tornado. “We’d love it, but we have to be getting back for practice.” He glanced at his giant friend. “Maybe some other time?”

“Sure,” Brad said eagerly, thrilled at the prospect of spending time with this amazing boy. “Anytime.”

A strangled gasp emitted from Charlie’s throat, leading to more concerned glances, but the arrival of yet another person cut off any further conversation. Though still a surprise, this time, at least, it was someone they knew and liked: Pasta, their close friend and classmate from school.

Still, Brad couldn’t suppress a burst of incredulity. “For fuck’s sake. Are we in the middle of a goddamn walking tour of the most boring town in America, or what? Where are you people goddamn coming from?”

Pasta seemed utterly unfazed by the question or situation, observing his friends’ nudity and the two strangers with no sign of surprise. “I was up visiting Tuukka at campus for a gig, and then when I was driving back, I decided to stop by to make sure you guys didn’t die of heatstroke at Bettman’s in-laws’ place. Figured I’d sneak up through the trail and then pop out and surprise you.”

“Well, I think every one of us is surprised,” Brad informed him, glancing at the two joggers. The giant nodded in agreement. “For a variety of reasons, though.”

“Yeah, you guys really surprised me, too,” Pasta replied blithely. “I mean, wow, skinny-dipping? Of course you’d do that, Brad, but I never thought you’d be up for it, Charlie. Lookin’ good, by the way! Maybe you should go without clothes more often, huh?”

Brad looked over to check on Charlie, sincerely concerned he might try to drown himself out of sheer embarrassment

Pasta cast an assessing glance at the two joggers, his hands poised at the hem of his shirt. “So, are we having a party? Should I—”

“No!” Charlie burst out, the escalating situation finally spurring a reaction out of him. “Follow us as we swim back to our clothes. The three of us will go back to the house together. _ Only _ the three of us,” he emphasized, still not looking at the joggers. Grabbing Brad’s arm, he began to tow him away. 

The opposing current was no match for Charlie’s powerful legs as he dragged Brad back upstream, but Brad managed to abortively wave goodbye to the beautiful boy and his giant friend before he started swimming himself. “Bye! Nice meeting you!”

“Wait!” The beautiful boy protested, seeming genuinely distressed. “I didn’t get your names!”

“I’m Brad!” Brad yelled. He gestured beside him. “And this is Charlie!” He ignored the look of mixed panic and fury Charlie tossed his way.

“Patrice,” the beautiful boy called. He indicated his giant friend. “That’s Zee!” 

The giant—Zee—waved. “We go to Blackstone High!” he added helpfully.

“And I’m Pasta,” Brad heard Pasta tell them. “What a way to meet people, huh? Well, I’ll see ya!” 

What followed was the sounds of Pasta crashing through the woods to track Charlie and Brad’s direction. It seemed like he must have gotten lost a time or two, since Brad and Charlie arrived first back at their clothes first despite swimming against the water’s flow, but he met up with them again as they hauled themselves up out of the stream and up onto the riverbank.

“No one’s with you, right?” Charlie asked anxiously, hauling on his jeans and then his shirt with speed that would have impressed Barry Allen. He glanced at the woods around them, clearly anticipating the joggers, Zee and Patrice, to pop out of the brush again.

Brad certainly wouldn’t have minded if they did. That Patrice . . . _ wow. _ Just _ wow. _ He was stunning. So stunning that now that they were on their own again, Brad could barely believe the encounter happened at all. Maybe it was all just some heat-induced hallucination and he had actually collapsed while slaving over Mrs. Spunkelcrief’s hydrangeas.

“All by myself,” Pasta confirmed, still utterly nonchalant. “Your new friends went back up the trail. Why’d you go skinny-dipping beside such a high-traffic path, anyway? Everyone knows about it. Tuukka said he and his band used to hang out there and look for song-writing inspiration, but the cyclists kept on chasing them off. I guess they’re not fans of Finnish ghost metal.”

“I kind of think there wouldn’t be a whole lot of crossover, no,” Brad agreed.

Charlie groaned at Pasta’s comment and threw an accusing look at Brad as he tugged on his shoes. “Wanna know why we were there? Because Bradley here told me no one else would be around, that’s why! I wouldn’t have done it if I’d know random people would be around to gawk at us like circus animals.”

“Insanely attractive random people, though!” Brad protested. “Yeah, okay, I was wrong that no one else would be around, but c’mon, has a guy that hot ever checked any of us out before?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I’ll die of humiliation if I ever have to see him again,” Charlie said fervently, color rising in his round cheeks just at the thought. “I’ve never felt like such an absolute freak. Put on your pants, Brad. We don’t want Bettman to be catching us naked next.”

* * *

Shy as he was, Charlie was too embarrassed to even speak about their encounter with Patrice and Zee, and after a little bit of teasing, Brad let the issue drop, not wanting to make his friend too uncomfortable. Once upon a time, he might have continued to raise the topic just to watch Charlie squirm—Brad didn’t consider himself deliberately mean-spirited, but he did like poking at people. But his friend had unfailingly been there for Brad throughout the entirety of his humiliating breakup with Tyler last spring and then ensuing depression that had stretched into the summer. Chucky had more than proven his loyalty, and he deserved better than Brad’s teasing.

So even though Patrice’s unreasonably good-looking face lingered in Brad’s mind for the next few days, it started to fade after a fewl weeks, and Brad resigned himself to never seeing either of the two Blackstone High students again. Busy as he was between community service, lacrosse practice, and the usual unjustly intense workload from school, he didn’t have much time to think about them, anyway.

That changed one afternoon after practice, when Brad popped by his favorite coffee shop to grab an extra jolt of caffeine before tackling his homework. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the two occupants of one of the outdoor metal tables: his ex boyfriend Tyler and the guy Tyler had cheated on him for, Jamie Benn. They were kissing passionately and probably in danger of being slapped with a public indecency charge if a police officer spotted them.

Brad could only hope. 

Throughout almost their entire sophomore year, Brad and Tyler had been a couple, and Brad thought they’d had a pretty good relationship. They’d even planned to go to their school’s spring formal together, but Tyler had called to cancel that very night, claiming he was too sick to go. Brad had been disappointed but had understood, and he’d planned to give Tyler the corsage he’d purchased for him anyway, bringing it along to school with him the next Monday. Except once there, he’d found out that Tyler had gone to the spring formal. Just with Jamie, not Brad.

Officially, Tyler had never broken up with Brad at all, seeming to prefer to let his actions speak for themselves. He’d also never apologized or acknowledged his cheating in any way, instead switching from Brad to Jamie without any hesitation or sign of regret.

It had hurt Brad terribly for Tyler to use him and then toss him aside like trash, not even doing him the dignity of actually ending their relationship. Needless to say that right now, the happy couple were the last two people on the planet he wanted to encounter at the end of a long day. So he was more than content to cut his losses and make do without his coffee.

But just as he was turning away, someone shouted “Brad!” from nearby, and Brad closed his eyes, wondering not for the first time if what his school taught about God loving everyone was really true. Especially when he saw in the corner of his eye that Jamie and Tyler’s heads had snapped up and turned in his direction.

Steeling himself, Brad turned to find none other than Patrice hurrying up the sidewalk to him, smiling and waving and looking like he could take the male modelling world by storm and reconstruct the entire industry to be based solely around himself and his beautiful face (but was probably too nice to ever do so).

“Oh, hey, Patrice!” Brad greeted him warmly. His stomach flip-flopped, but whether it was due to knowing he was the subject of Patrice’s lovely smile or the feeling of Tyler’s gaze on him as he spoke with this much more handsome boy, he wasn’t sure.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you again,” Patrice enthused, earnestness in his dark gaze. “I was hoping I’d run into you sometime.”

“Well, now you have,” Brad replied easily, very pleased with himself for managing such a nonchalant response despite the whirlwind of his emotions over the last few seconds. “Want to grab a coffee?”

Patrice smiled the kind of smile that could cure deadly illnesses and convince Comcast sales representatives to actually cancel contracts when a customer requested it. “I’ve love to.”

They ended up grabbing coffee and chatting for a few minutes at one of the outdoor tables, with Brad taking no small joy in sitting near Jamie and Tyler. While the conversation wasn’t exceptionally deep, just Patrice mentioning a few details of his life at Blackstone High, Brad was more than eager to learn anything more about him. He found out that Patrice and Zee were both juniors, just like himself and Charlie, and that they were both on the boys’ soccer team, and they’d been running in the woods that day as part of their training.

“Damn, Zee must be a beast on the field,” Brad remarked, struck by the image of the other teen’s towering form tearing down the grass toward the opposing goal and bowling other players out of his way without even blinking.

“He is,” Patrice said proudly. “He’s our best player, and our captain even though we have a bunch of seniors on the team. But he didn’t just get the position because he’s good. He’s a terrific leader, and he really cares about everyone in the program.”

Brad grinned at the sincere praise from Patrice toward his friend, his fondness for Patrice climbing even higher. He was always impressed by people who could bestow genuine compliments onto others and mean them wholeheartedly, and these days especially—he cast a dark look at Tyler—he had a renewed appreciation for people with a sense of personal loyalty.

He also found out that Patrice and Zee’s English class would be going to the local theater’s production of The Crucible—serendipitously, on the very same day and at the same show that the Our Lady Junior class would be attending with its entire all sixty-three students.

“Really?” Patrice asked, surprise and then happiness flitting across his face. “That’s great!” Then he paused. “Hey, uh, not to be too forward but . . .”

“Forward? With this guy?” Brad pointed at himself. “Lay it on me.”

Patrice smiled at him, and no doubt somewhere a chorus of angels began to softly sing Enya music. “Thanks. So, uh, that guy in the woods with you and Charlie—was he Charlie’s boyfriend?”

“Pasta and Charlie?” Brad scoffed. “Nope. Charlie’s too normal for him. Pasta only goes for weirdos. Right now he’s dating some angry Finnish guy who plays in a metal band and is already in college. And Charlie’s totally single.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” Patrice said, almost to himself.

An icy, unpleasant realization started to wash over Brad as he glimpsed what seemed to be relief on Patrice’s face.

“So, do you want to meet up at the theater, then?” Patrice asked eagerly. “You could bring Charlie with you, and me and Zee will be there, and we can all sit together.”

“Sounds good,” Brad lied, even as an awful, hollow feeling settled in his stomach. Patrice wasn’t interested in him, he was interested in _ Charlie. _ Sweet, shy, muscley Charlie with his shampoo commercial-worthy golden flow. Patrice hadn’t been happy to get coffee with Brad or spend time together; it had been a means to an end to find out more about Charlie and if he was available.

It seemed stupid to mourn a boy he’d never actually landed in the first place, but somehow Brad was struck with disappointment all the same. It seemed especially and extraordinarily unfair that the realization be forced upon him just mere feet away from his cheating ex boyfriend who was happily enjoying his own date. Was there no limit to the salt in his wounds?

But then again, Charlie was the friend who’d stood by Brad throughout the aftermath of that cheating ex boyfriend. Charlie was the one who’d dragged him out of bed when Brad wanted to pretend he was dead to the world, who’d stopped by Brad’s summer job on his own lunch hour just to cheer him up, who’d organized day trips to theme parks and towns that weren’t as deathly dull as theirs to distract him. 

Charlie had been a good friend to Brad. It was time that Brad return the favor and help gorgeous Patrice win Charlie over so Charlie could be happy. 

So he pasted a smile onto his face as he exchanged goodbyes and phone numbers with Patrice, making sure to pass along Charlie’s number as well. 

“I’m really looking forward to this,” Patrice told him just before they parted ways, and he looked like he meant it, genuine excitement in his warm eyes.

“Me, too,” Brad replied, with as much sincerity as he could muster.

It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. Charlie was his bro; Brad would have his back, and he wanted to prove that. 

He just wished that Patrice Bergeron, winsome and wonderful and possibly ethereal being that he was, could be looking forward to spending time with him instead.

* * *

“I can’t believe you agreed to meet these guys. Or that they wanted to meet us at all, actually,” Charlie commented, shaking his head in disbelief.

They were at the theater, hanging back from filing into seats with their classmates in the hope of being forced into the next row. Brad saw with satisfaction that their teachers were seating themselves already. Good—then there could be no worry any authority figures interfering if Charlie and Patrice decided to get freaky when the lights went down.

Not that Charlie seemed to be really convinced of Patrice’s affections for him, though.

“You should consider it a compliment,” Brad told him sincerely. “I mean, the guy saw you in the buff and now wants to smash. He must have been really impressed.” 

A light blush began to pinken Charlie’s round cheeks, and he shrugged uncomfortably, shy as always when Brad brought up sex. “Did you see the way his friend Zee kept looking at me and then back at Patrice, though? He seemed so . . . I don’t know, skeptical. I think he might think that I’m not good enough for his friend.”

Brad hadn’t noticed anything along those lines—of course, he’d been too focused on Patrice’s scintillating visage to pay attention to anyone else in that moment. The ground could have fallen out from under him in those moments, and he wouldn’t have noticed. Still, he couldn’t imagine Patrice, who all but had a material aura that radiated positivity and warmth, being friends with anyone so quick to be critical. 

“Uh, I doubt it,” he told Charlie honestly. “Patrice had nothing but good things to say about Zee when I met up with him for coffee. And I don’t think Patrice seems like he’d be friends with someone who’s going to rush to judgement like that.” He clapped Charlie on the back. “Look, stop worrying, Cheeks. An incredibly handsome and nice soccer star wants to date you. Just bask in the glory, all right?”

A dull ache throbbed through Brad even as he spoke, hurt mixed with jealousy that his friend was being showered with attention while he was cast aside and ignored. But Brad clamped down on the feeling and shoved it aside, trying his best to force it from his mind. He wouldn’t be bitter. He wouldn’t. Charlie deserved Patrice, he really did.

“I just don’t know—” Charlie began worriedly, but he broke off as he spotted Patrice and Zee approaching them, Zee’s immense height rendering them impossible to miss.

“Hey, glad to see you!” Brad greeted them, injecting as much sincere joy into his voice as he could manage. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Charlie added, smiling at Patrice and then casting his gaze up at Zee, before dropping his eyes to the floor, blushing harder than ever.

“We are glad to be here,” Zee replied earnestly, his own eyes resting squarely on Charlie. 

Brad didn’t miss the direction of his gaze. Huh, maybe Charlie had been onto something about how Zee looked at him. At least it didn’t seem mean, though—Zee actually looked a little bit intrigued.

But then Patrice looked directly at Brad, aiming his bewitching, capable-of-convincing-capitalists-to-end-pollution smile his way, completely and utterly distracting him from absolutely anything else. 

“Looks like we can all be happy together, then,” he joked, and it was so cheesy but so sincere that Brad was helpless to do anything but smile back at him.

Any further conversation was cut short when the lights started to dim, signalling the showgoers to find their seats. 

“We should probably go up there,” Zee said a touch sheepishly, pointing to the back of the theater. “Don’t want to block anyone’s view.”

Kindhearted as ever, Charlie instantly leapt to reassure Zee, not hesitating even despite his suspicion that Zee didn’t like him. “Let’s go, then,” he said resolutely, thumping Zee lightly on the arm as he went to lead the way. “The lights cause a glare on the first few rows, so I wouldn’t want to sit there, anyway.”

They ascended to the highest row of seats. Charlie accidentally tripped and stumbled on the way up, and Brad thought it would have been the perfect opportunity for Patrice to rush to his rescue, but instead Zee grabbed him by the shoulders and steadied him before Patrice had the chance. So, knowing Patrice needed the chance to make his move, Brad was careful to maneuver the seating arrangements to allow Charlie to sit in between Zee and Patrice, with Brad himself sitting on Patrice’s other side. Hopefully, this way Patrice could start turning on the charm and schmoozing Charlie if he wanted—but judging by how hard Charlie was blushing and avoiding anyone’s gaze, Brad had to admit it didn’t exactly seem like Charlie would be all that into it. 

A thought crossed Brad’s mind as they settled into their chairs. 

“You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you?” he asked Patrice. “For ditching your class to sit someplace else? I mean, the teachers with us have a drinking problem and a newborn baby between the two of them, so they’re not even going to notice Charlie and me being gone. But, I don’t know, do public schools care more?”

Patrice chuckled, a sound so warm and rich Brad almost thought that it would taste like caramel hot chocolate with whipped cream and mocha sprinkles if it had a flavor. “They care even less. Our English teacher is eight months from retirement and only shows up to teach our class, like, half the time. I don’t even think he remembers who I am.”

“How couldn’t he?” Brad said before he could stop himself. “You’re pretty unforgettable.” Oh, God, did he really just say that? Jesus, he sounded like a moron.

But Patrice just sent him that fantastic smile that could end intergalactic war. “I’m glad you think so. And thanks for worrying for me. You’re very thoughtful.”

_ Thoughtful? Me? _ Brad tried to recall if Tyler had ever called him thoughtful—but anything about Tyler hardly seemed to matter, not with Patrice sitting right next to him and piling on the praise. 

The overhead lights darked completely then, saving him from making a further fool out of himself, but he was hyper aware of Patrice’s presence beside him. As the stage lights flared to life, Brad couldn’t help but long for this same moment under different circumstances, to still be in the dark at a show with Patrice, but for it to be a life where he could reach out and snag Patrice’s hand. Or maybe a life where Patrice could simply reach out and grasp his hand first. 

* * *

Nothing really ended up happening on their theater group beyond Zee buying a popcorn during the intermission and sharing with Charlie. Weirdly, Patrice had seemed far more interested in the play than his supposed best friend robbing him of the moments with Charlie that should have been his own. Realizing that at least one of the four of them had to get their priorities straight, Brad resolved to find a new way to bring together his best friend and the most handsome boy in all of Massachusetts and probably the country. So when the first Thursday of October found them shivering through their T-shirts and selling ice cream, of all fucking things, at the local fairgrounds, Brad tried to comfort Charlie by reminding him that Patrice would be there soon. 

“Perfect Patrice,” Brad encouraged him, trying to pump him up for the upcoming meeting. “Handsome, heartfelt, and hella fine. And he’s excited for tonight. He told me that himself.”

It was true. Brad had been the one to invite him. “We’re doing some more community service, this time for Milbury’s Quality Ice Cream. We’re running a stand on the fairgrounds when they’re setting up the rides and booths on Thursday for the fair the next day. I guess Old Man Milbury knows a bunch of other food stalls are gonna be open that night, too, and that people are going to come, since there’s fuck-all else to do in our town. He just has got to get a cut of that green, seems like.”

Patrice had frowned for the first time Brad had ever seen, and somehow, he even managed to make that look attractive. “That doesn’t sound very community-oriented.”

Leave it to wonderful, amazing, and intellectual Patrice to spot the inconsistency. He just _ got _ it. He and Brad were practically made for each other. If only Patrice could see that. But no—Charlie should have him. He deserved him. 

“It doesn’t,” Brad had agreed. “Because it isn’t. But Old Man Milbury is a big donor to our school, and Bettman is happy to supply him with free child labor. It’s all very immoral, and they should both be ashamed, especially since, you know, Jesus was all about honesty and that stuff. But the plus side here is that you can come and see me and Charlie again. We probably won’t be naked this time, though.”

“I’d still love to see you both,” Patrice had hurried to assure him. “Me and Zee will be there as soon as we get back from our game.”

“It’s a ten,” Brad had told him, trying his best to be happy even as he could swear he felt a piece of his soul erode and die within himself as he again was faced with the knowledge that Patrice wanted to be there for Charlie, not for Brad. There would never be a life where he did want to be there for Brad.

Now, Charlie glanced at him curiously. “To be honest, Brad, it seems like you’re more into the guy than I am.”

_ Dammit. Caught red handed. _“What? No. I never. I am no such thing,” Brad hastened to say. “I’ve actually been considering joining the abstinence-only club at school, so, you know. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right for me to date someone as handsome as Patrice and then not put out when he needs it.”

Charlie did not look especially convinced by this logic, but a sudden gaggle of middle schoolers crowding around the ice-cream stall prevented him from asking any questions. Never before had Brad been so glad that they lived in a town so ridiculously boring that even just watching workers set up rides and tents was considered prime entertainment.

As grateful as he was for the distraction, by the time Brad mechanically doled out the cone of mint chocolate chip to the last tweenager in line, his fingers were starting to go numb from constantly digging into the ice cream cooler, and the chill of the night wasn’t helping. He was reduced to blowing on his fingers to try to restore the warmth.

“How much longer till Pasta and Matt get here to take over?” he asked Charlie desperately. This cold was going to kill him, probably. But maybe at least it would force Charlie to cuddle up to Patrice for warmth.

A gust of wind swooped directly at them, tearing at their clothes, and Charlie’s teeth chattered as he replied. “They should be here any minute. Any longer and they’ll be late.”

“Who’ll be late?” a familiar voice asked. More specifically, a voice that could have been speaking over the intercom of a nuclear power plant announcing its closure, and the employees would stop and weep only because of how uniquely magnificent the voice sounded.

It was Patrice, accompanied by Zee, as always. They were both wearing letterman jackets with their jeans, Brad noticed somewhat enviously, and looked rather snug and cozy in them. 

Per usual, Charlie could barely look at Zee and instead focused his attention exclusively on Patrice. Not that Brad could blame him. “Hey, Pat. We were just talking about the next guys who are supposed to take over running this stand.”

“Yeah, the other poor bastards who are expected to risk frostbite to hock some ice cream,” Brad added. “I mean, of all fucking things to sell at a fall carnival . . .”

Zee laughed, glancing at Charlie. (He did that a lot, Brad had noticed. And he had a nice laugh, though not as bewitching as Patrice’s.) “You don’t want us to buy some to support your school?” he teased.

“At this point, Zee, I’d be happier to light it on fire to keep us warm,” Brad grumbled, and all of them laughed at that, even Charlie, sneaking a peek at Zee as he did. He instantly looked away, though, when Zee tried to catch his gaze.

Thankfully, Matt showed up with Pasta in tow just then, freeing Brad and Charlie from their icy imprisonment, and they fell into step beside Zee and Patrice as they set off further into the fairgrounds. The air around them filled with flashes of bright color and hydraulic whirs as the various rides were reconstructed and tested. Even though he was still freezing his balls off, a thrill of excitement zipped through Brad as he gazed around, nostalgically spotting old favorites and taking note of any new rides that looked worthwhile. And Patrice, who had somehow ended up right next to him, was doing the same thing. Brad grinned at the sight. 

“See that?” he asked Patrice, pointing to the zipper ride, which was jolting and rumbling its way through a test run. “Our class visited here in seventh grade, and Charlie was the only one brave enough to ride it with me. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

Patrice laughed, and Brad was honestly surprised that the sound alone didn’t manage to fully restore his body heat. “It must have been facing certain death together that sealed your friendship, huh? I figured you two were pretty close.”

“I wouldn’t be the person I am today without him,” Brad said sincerely, thinking back to all of the times that Charlie had refused to let him wallow in misery over the summer. 

His gaze fell upon Charlie as he spoke, who was walking with Zee a few paces ahead of them. As he watched, Zee shrugged off his letterman jacket and carefully draped it around Charlie’s shoulders, leading Charlie to glance up at him fully for the first time, and even with the fair lights flaring around them, Brad could see Charlie’s blush. Geez, it probably would have been visible from the inside of one of the zipper cars.

Also, just what the hell did Zee think he was doing? Was he moving in on Patrice’s territory? Brad sent a quick glance Patrice’s way to gauge his reaction, but Patrice only briefly looked ahead at Zee and Charlie and then looked back at Brad with his astonishing smile that could probably restore life to an apocalyptic hellscape in an instant. He didn’t seem upset at all.

Zee was probably acting as Patrice’s wingman, Brad decided. After all, Charlie’s shoulders were more than likely too broad for Patrice’s jacket, and Zee had probably volunteered his own instead. What a bro. Brad only hoped he could be that good of a bro to Charlie one day instead of selfishly trying to steal potential boyfriends from him.

At the thought, Brad couldn’t help but sneak a guilty peek over at Patrice, but just as he turned toward him, another gale of wind surged, and Brad hissed out a curse as he was reduced to shaking with cold once again.

“That’s it,” he declared, halting abruptly. “I need to get something hot to drink. Coffee, cocoa, brandy, I don’t care, just as long as it’s warm.”

“There’s a hot apple cider stand down by the tilt-a-whirl,” Patrice offered, and God, Charlie was so lucky to get a guy like Patrice, who would always come to the rescue. “How about the two of us walk down there? And then you two can go have fun on your own,” he added, speaking to Zee and Charlie.

“What? Well, I, uh—” Brad floundered, desperately looking for an excuse that would put Patrice and Charlie together on their own, but he couldn’t find one that wouldn’t make himself look rude to Patrice. And maybe it was selfish, but even if it would push Charlie and Patrice closer together, he couldn’t bear the idea of hurting Patrice’s feelings.

“That sounds excellent,” Zee replied smoothly, glancing down at Charlie. “You wanted to check on the time hayrides were starting tomorrow, right? We can walk over to the wagons and see right now.”

“I’d really like that,” Charlie said, and even though he was blushing hotly, he actually managed to look all the way up at Zee and meet his eyes with a smile.

“It’s settled, then,” Patrice said happily, and with that, the four of them split off into four pairs.

Clawing guilt ravaged at Brad’s stomach the entire walk over to the apple cider booth and during their brief wait in line as well. How could he have let this situation spiral out of control? What about Charlie? What about Patrice? What had he wrought? Why couldn’t he just somehow force the romance between this beautiful boy and his best friend to happen? Why did things always have to go wrong for him?

He tried to hide his despair, faking nonchalance and chatting with Patrice all the while, but he must not have been keeping up as good of a charade as he’d hoped, because after Brad paid for his drink and they were walking away, Patrice stopped him with a careful hand on his chest and looked at him with concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes dark pools that Brad could’ve drowned himself in. “You doing all right?”

The light touch had Brad’s pulse racing and his heart in his throat, and he knew he should lie and brush it off, but something about the way Patrice was looking at him had all of Brad’s instincts urging him to confide in him. Damn Patrice for looking so handsome and trustworthy. 

A sigh escaped Brad, and he let his shoulders sag, deciding it was pretty useless to pretend he didn’t know anymore.

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” Brad returned wearily. Just one of the many ways he was a failure as a friend, he supposed. “After all, you’re the one who just got your heart broken.”

“My heart—” A look of extreme confused settled on Patrice’s face, but it didn’t make him look any less handsome. “What are you talking about?”

“Um.” Brad squinted at him, doubt suddenly creeping in. “Zee and Charlie? How you just saw your BFF walk off with the guy you’re crushing on?” 

For a moment, Patrice just stared at Brad with a furrowed brow, but then realization dawned. “You think I’m crushing on Charlie?”

“Uhhh.” Brad stared back. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” Patrice replied simply, and Brad could only stand there, so stunned he could barely blink.

Recognizing his stupefied state, Patrice very thoughtfully took Brad by the hand and led him to a sequestered bench behind the first aid tent, a quiet area safely tucked away from all the chaos. It wasn’t even until Patrice gently pushed him down and then sat down next to him that it fully registered that Patrice had willingly taken his hand, just like Brad had wished for back at the theater.

“So.” Patrice looked at him openly, nothing but sincere curiosity on his face. “Why did you think I was into Charlie?”

“Well . . .” Brad cleared away the last of the astonishment clouding his brain so he could shrug self-consciously. “You did ask if he had a boyfriend,” he pointed out, feeling a touch defensive and that the conclusion he’d gathered from the question had only been natural. “And I mean, look at the guy. He’s totally cut, he’s got that wavy blond hair, and he has that whole adorable cherub thing going for him. A lot of people are really into that.”

“Zee is definitely one of them,” Patrice said affectionately. He grinned at Brad, and no doubt somewhere someone’s dead and decrepit garden sprung back to life more lush and vibrant than ever before. “He’s one of those big guys who’s really into the cute and shy type. After we saw you swimming that day, he couldn’t shut up for the rest of practice about how sweet Charlie seemed. He thought it was really cute how embarrassed he was. And Zee’s always been there for me, so I decided to play wingman if I ever ran into either of you two again.”

“That’s why you asked if Pasta was Charlie’s boyfriend,” Brad realized.

Patrice nodded. “Believe me, I was so glad to hear that he was dating that college guy. Zee and I had been running that trail every day for weeks, hoping to run into you two again. He would’ve been crushed if Charlie had been dating someone else.” 

“Huh.” The more Brad thought about it, the more it made sense. The way Zee looked at Charlie that both Brad and Charlie himself had noticed, how Zee always seemed to be there to lend Charlie a hand (or jacket) whenever he needed it. To think Charlie had thought at first that Zee hadn’t considered him dating material even for Patrice, let alone himself. And Charlie seemed pretty into Zee, too, with the constant blushing around him. 

“Well, I hope they can be happy together,” he told Patrice honestly. “Running through those mosquito-infested woods every day for two weeks, huh? You’re a ten, Patrice. You must have been overjoyed to finally find me at the coffee shop.”

“I was,” Patrice replied softly, and there was a certain _ something _in his voice that caught Brad’s attention. It reminded him of Charlie in his shyer moments.

“I was hoping to run into you,” Patrice confessed quietly. “Zee wanted to see Charlie again, and I wanted to see you again. And I was so happy when I finally did. When I just saw you on the street that afternoon, it . . .” he shrugged self-consciously. “It was like a dream come true for me,” he concluded with a small smile.

Automatically, Brad opened his mouth to speak but then shut it again when it occurred to him he couldn’t form any words. He felt weak with shock and disbelief.

“Me?” he finally choked out. “_ I _ was your dream come true?”

Patrice nodded quickly, those lovely eyes of his eyes utterly earnest. “Yeah. You were so confident and friendly and didn’t even seem startled by us intruding that day in the woods. You were so . . . smooth. But in a real way, not like some kind of pick-up artist. I don’t know, something about how quick you were to try to make an uncomfortable situation seem more comfortable really got me. You seemed so nice, like you always wanted to make other people happy. And I was right. You really were were trying to help out Charlie this whole time, weren’t you?”

Brad nodded dumbly, still trying to absorb that dazzling, awe-inspiring Patrice could have anyone but wanted _ him. _ “Yeah. I wanted you and him to be together. Since, you know, he’s my bro, and you seem, like, uh—” _ Like the Greek Gods would destroy Mount Olympus themselves because they couldn’t compete with your beauty. _ “—a real good guy.”

“Okay,” Patrice said, still in that soft, _ tender _ tone. “But if I’m not missing my mark, maybe you’d want to try, um, being together? With me?”

“Want?” Brad echoed. “Patrice, I’d _ love _ to.” Exhilaration pumping through him, because wonderful, winsome Patrice wanted him, had wanted him all along, he couldn’t stop a silly grin from stretching across his face. “I mean, I could die happy right now.”

“Yeah?” Patrice grinned back, and, if someone else had ever told him this, Brad would have sworn they were a dirty liar, but his grin looked goofy, too. Lovestruck, even. “Don’t do that. Kiss me instead.”

Like Brad could ever have refused. All but pouncing on Patrice, he drove his lips against his mouth with as much pressure as he could possibly manage, desperately trying to get as close as possible. Patrice’s arms wrapped around Brad’s waist, drawing him against him, and Brad was just breath away from straddling his lap when a loud, “Jesus Christ!” interrupted them.

Annoyed at the intrusion, Brad broke apart from Patrice and turned to give these thoughtless interlopers his nastiest look, but was instead unable to stop smug satisfaction from coursing through himself when he recognized who they were: Tyler with his new boyfriend, Jamie.

“I—what—” Tyler was openly gawking, looking from Brad to Patrice with undisguised disbelief, clearly struggling to comprehend that he’d just stumbled across his ex getting down and dirty with someone as amazing as Patrice.

_ That’s right, _ Brad thought savagely. _ Now you’re the one who’s been replaced. With someone who’s far more attractive, inside and out. _

Clearly embarrassed at intruding upon their makeout session, Jamie grabbed Tyler’s hand. “Sorry to interrupt,” he told them, mortified, and proceeded to drag a still gaping Tyler away.

Patrice watched them go, amusement on his face. “You know them?” he asked Brad.

“Yeah. The guy staring at us like we were Canucks fans in Messier jerseys was my ex. The guy who actually talked to us was the boyfriend who replaced me,” Brad admitted, waiting for the usual rush of pain and embarrassment when he thought of Tyler and Jamie, but none came. 

He didn’t even have to wonder about the remedy, only looked up to meet Patrice’s kind eyes as he placed a hand on Brad’s thigh. “You can tell me about it, if you want,” he offered.

Maybe even a half hour ago, Brad would have taken him up on the invitation, but now, when he knew Patrice wanted him and had all along, Tyler didn’t seem even remotely significant. 

“Thanks,” he replied wholeheartedly. “But I’m ready to forget about it.” He meant it, too. He was ready to bury whatever hurt Tyler had caused him and start over. “Besides,” he stood up and tugged Patrice into standing alongside him, “we should probably find Zee and Charlie and make sure they didn’t hijack any of the wagons.”

“Yeah, I’ve said all along that those two give me a strong Bonnie and Clyde vibe,” Patrice replied dryly, and Brad chuckled, feeling privileged for having summoned a hidden sarcastic side of Patrice.

As they fell into step alongside each other, Patrice slung an arm over his shoulders, pulling him closer and keeping him there. Tingles shot through Brad at the relaxed, easy contact, and he couldn’t help but snuggle into the touch, wondering if his reaction meant as much to Patrice as the initial gesture did to him. The notion that it did left him more than a touch breathless.

The hayride station was about a hundred yards out from the rest of the fair, probably for reasons of both safety and scenery, the distance providing a better view of the surrounding farmland. With no one else around and Charlie and Zee nowhere in sight, Brad didn’t hesitate to make their presence known.

“Hey, Zee! Cheeks! If you’re banging, you’d better get decent, ’cause we’re coming over! Charlie, do your parents still have you on that Gestapo-like ten o’clock curfew?”

There were a few faint deep-voiced murmurings from a nearby wagon, followed by rustling sounds and the creaking of wood, and then Charlie popped up, straightening his T-shirt. 

“They do,” he admitted, hurriedly running a hand through his hair and only brushing out about a third of the straw there. “Thanks, Brad. And I’m so sorry, Zdeno,” he said, looking down at the floor of the wagon and only increasing Brad’s suspicions.

“It’s not a problem,” Zee assured him, climbing to his feet like Godzilla rising out of the ocean. “I understand you have to go see your family.”

“Maybe we can all meet up again tomorrow?” Patrice asked, looking at Brad eagerly. _ Eager. _ He was eager to see Brad again. “The four of us could have some fun together.”

“I would love to,” Brad vowed. He grinned at Patrice, and then threw a knowing glance at Zee and then Charlie. “Are you guys game, or are you planning on saving some for the wedding night?”

Charlie blushed bright red, which was expected, but Zee just smirked and folded his arms over his chest, which was quite unexpected. 

“Who says I need to bother saving?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, and either Charlie liked the sound of _ that _ particular promise, or he was glad that someone finally managed to fire back a witty retort at Brad, because the instant he heard the line, he reached up and pulled a surprised Zee into a deep smooch.

Brad couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the two of them, though he paused when he noticed Patrice watching him and smiling.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Patrice replied easily as he looked at Brad like he was the most heavenly image he could find on earth. “You just have a beautiful laugh, that’s all.”

There was nothing more ironic than someone as gorgeous as Patrice telling Brad that any part of him, physical or intangible, was beautiful, but Patrice must really have been special, because Brad found himself believing him. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, too low for Charlie or Zee to hear. “And I can’t wait for tomorrow night so we can spend more time together.”

Patrice squeezed his hand and sent him a smile that just made Brad feel incredibly lucky to have this boy in his life. “Me, too. I really did mean that when I said it earlier, Brad. I was so glad to find you.”

Heart thumping in his chest, Brad couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him again, gentler this time than before, but unfortunately, just as short, as Charlie’s five-minute warning alarm began blaring on his phone. 

“Curfew cockblocks again,” Brad groused, reluctantly tearing himself away from Patrice. Still, he gave him the best smile he could manage. “We’ll meet back here at seven tomorrow. That all right with you?”

“It’s a date,” Patrice said with certainty, and a zing of elation shot through Brad, because, hey, it really _ was. _

Charlie and Zee were still wrapped in a deep kiss, and Brad whistled sharply at them, for the sake of Zee’s back if nothing else. 

“We gotta get going, Cheeks!” he warned him, and began walking in the direction of the parking lot. Turning around, he gave one last wave to Patrice, his heart soaring as Patrice waved back.

Not ten seconds into his walk, Charlie joined him, breathing heavily despite being very athletic and the distance being incredibly short, which probably meant it was the kissing that left him breathless rather than anything else.

Per usual, Brad couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, that didn’t take long,” he remarked, nudging Charlie with his elbow. “Getting on a full name basis with _ Zdeno _ and then going for a roll in the hay, huh?”

“We were just making out!” Charlie protested, that pink blush (Which was probably a huge turn-on for Zee, given what Patrice had said) back in his cheeks. 

“Yeah, sure.” Brad didn't believe him in the slightest. “So, tell me something. Is he . . . _ proportionate, _ or—” 

“Yes,” Charlie admitted immediately, and Brad stared at him in delighted shock, about to press him for details, but Charlie merely tilted his chin up defiantly, refusing to give anything more. “Enough about me. Did you finally get your act together with Patrice?”

“Sure did,” Brad replied, instantly feeling like he was walking on clouds just at the mention. “Thanks for not going for him, by the way,” he added, somewhat sheepishly. “I know I was pushing you at him pretty hard.”

“It’s no problem,” Charlie told him honestly. “Zdeno is way more my type, anyway. Besides,” he added gently. “I wanted you to be happy, Brad. You deserve someone really special, especially after what Tyler put you through. It’s good that you’re with someone else now.”

“You’re a phenomenal friend, Charlie,” Brad said earnestly. “Thank you.”

“You are, too, Brad,” Charlie replied without hesitation, and the two of them walked back to Brad’s battered Pontiac in companionable silence.

After he unlocked the car, Charlie climbed right in, but Brad took a moment to stare up at the night sky before tucking himself away in the driver’s seat, still barely able to comprehend that Patrice had been thinking of him this whole time, but all the same, incredibly grateful and euphoric for it. Perfect Patrice wanted him, and Brad wanted him back.

Weeks ago, Brad had slumped down into his chair at the coffee shop, desperately wishing that Patrice were seeking him out to date, that Patrice was looking at and longing for him.

And now, Brad slung himself behind the wheel, revving the engine and turning up the radio as he exchanged smiles with his best friend, knowing that Patrice truly did.

**Author's Note:**

> **Did Zee actually dick down Charlie in the hayride wagon?**  
He did not. They did other stuff, but Zee is too much of a gentleman to do that on the first date.
> 
> **Will Patrice take Brad out to another show and hold his hand throughout the performance?**He absolutely will, and Brad will be thrilled, and Patrice will just smile at him and feel lucky to have him.


End file.
